


Saving Grace

by redlipswritings



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Lives, Arthur Morgan gets the love and affection he deserves, F/M, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Inspired by Red Dead Redemption, John Marston Deserves Happiness, Red Dead Redemption 2 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:26:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26618167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redlipswritings/pseuds/redlipswritings
Summary: Arthur struggles with his guilt and his loyalty towards the people he always thought of as family. He starts questioning the life they’ve been leading lately and wonders if there’s still a place for him somewhere out there in a world that’s so quickly changing. Then he meets a woman with fire in her eyes and gold in her heart who seems equally lost in the great unknown that’s life.
Relationships: Abigail Roberts Marston/John Marston, Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 31





	1. Foolish thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> There’s a little Ranch just south of Valentine and the owners owe the Van der Linde Gang some money. Arthur is sent to collect the debts thought instead of money he finds a sick and frail old man and a woman ready to fight for the people she considers her family.

A thick heat rests upon New Hanover as Arthur rides his horse through the fields and valleys, the sun beating mercilessly down on him. It’s a dry heat, one that clings to your lips and eyes and makes them feel like sandpaper.

He’s not really one for this weather, then again, he’s not itching to get back into the snow either. Those days up in Colter, holed up in those dingy little cabins not knowing whether they’d starve or if the storm would kill them first, they’ve left marks on all of them. Every time he looks around the camp he can see faces filled with relief yet guarded. It’s like no one really believes that luck might finally be on their side.

Dutch keeps repeating his mantras of “Just have faith” and though he’d die for this man, lately Arthur’s been wondering what exactly he’s supposed to have faith in. Life just ain’t what it used to be. The world, ain’t what it used to be. And maybe it has outgrown them. Maybe times ain’t meant for folk like them no more. He’s not gonna voice those thoughts though, not to Dutch or anyone else. Sometimes your own thoughts can be your undoing. So they stay in his head and in his diary. And anyway, what good would it do to undermine Dutch’s plan? It would just cause problems and unrest in the group. Then if they fall apart where would that leave him? They’re all he’s got. Mary ain’t taking him back anytime soon, that train had left years ago. There’s nothing else out there for him. He ain’t no rancher. Can’t fish really well. Hell, even though being out with Charles helped him get better, he ain’t turning into a hunter anytime soon either. He’s not bad at it but he can’t make a living from it either. This life, robbing and plundering and doing — well bad things, this is all he knows. All he’s ever known. Maybe, he thinks, life hasn’t outrun the group. He can see John, dull as he may be, turning his life around and becoming a rancher maybe. Mary-Beth, nose stuck in a book at all times, could make a great writer if given the opportunity. Hell, even Pearson could find employment elsewhere.

But him ? Nah. Maybe life hasn’t outrun the group. Maybe it has just outrun him.

Silly thoughts. Silly foolish thoughts. Thoughts he can’t afford. Not right now. He can’t grow soft right now. He’s got work to do. Work he ain’t particularly fond of but work nonetheless. Goddamn Strauss and his lending business. Though it may be legal it ain’t right. The fool is playing bigger fools for money they don’t have.

There’s a voice in the back of Arthur’s head nagging him about it. Telling him to just turn around and let Straus do the dirt work himself if he’s so keen on making business with desperate people he should be the one dealing with the consequences of his actions.

The idiot would probably get himself killed in the process though and while that wouldn’t be much of a bother to Arthur himself, he’s quite certain Dutch does not share that sentiment.

So once again he’s the one fixing other people’s mistakes.

There’s a small ranch just south of Valentine, close to Cumberland Falls. It ain’t big by any means but it’s calm and quaint and for a split second Arthur wonders if this could’ve been the life for him had he decided to stay with Mary and leave the gang behind. Probably not, Mary wouldn’t want to be a rancher’s wife either.

As he hitches his horse, Mouse on the closes tree, Arthur can already spot the poor fella Thomas Downes raking the ground by his crops. It’s not nice work, collecting debts.

The man is lanky and thin and he looks frails. With every step Arthur gets closer to the fence, he can hear the man coughing and wheezing. It ain’t right, beating money out of a sick man. It ain’t right at all.

“ Mr. Downes? Mr. Thomas Downes? “

“ Yup, that’s me.”

The man looks up at him with a smile and his words sound so goddamn chipper. It’s worse beating nice and friendly people. If they’re assholes, well, it ain’t so bad then. Least it doesn’t leave a sick taste in his mouth afterward.

“ You owe me money.”

The smile falls from his lips as realization dawns on him.

“ Oh, no no no - I “

Arthur steps through the gate, a terrified Thomas Downes facing him, rake in hand and ready to fight. What a nuisance, Arthur thinks. In the best of all cases, this man is sick, and in the worst, he’s actively dying, he’s not going to win any fight. Though Arthur commends his bravery, it’s a foolish attempt really.

He slaps the rake out of the man’s hand as if it’s a piece of straw. “ Really? Threaten me, would you? “

A deliberately placed punch straight to the jaw follows his words and immediately knocks the skinny man off of his feet. As he sits in the dirt, Thomas Downes looks up at Arthur through fearful eyes. It ain’t right.

“ Please. I have a family, sir. Please. “

It’s not fun to have them begging if they’re nice folk. Nonetheless, Arthur grabs the guy by his collar, lifts him up just a little. “ I don’t care about your family. You borrowed money from my business partner Herr Strauss. You owe him. You took the money, he wants it back. “

Downes cowers at Arthur’s feet like a beaten dog, there’s hopelessness in his eyes and desperation.

“ Where’s our money? “

“ I don’t have it. “

“ Sell your place. “

“ We already owe more than it’s worth. “

“ Well, that’s too bad for you then. “ Arthur lets out one of his signature grunts and is about to hoist the man up to his feet when a loud voice catches his attention.

“ Hey, you. Stop! Stop! Let him go! “

Arthur turns just in time to see a woman run up to him, her red hair pulled into a thick braid that hangs over her right shoulder, a few wildflowers intricately woven into the braid. Her appearance is one of sweetness and innocence though there’s a fire in her eyes burning brightly and her steps are fast and fierce.

“ This ain’t none of your business, Ma’am. Your husband owes us some money, I’m just here to collect what’s rightfully ours. “

“ He ain’t my husband. “ the woman hisses at Arthur, as she pulls Mr. Downes back to his feet and leans him against the fence. There’s blood dripping from a cut above his eye that the woman quickly wipes away with a handkerchief. “ I work here. “

“ Well, then it sure ain’t none of your concern. I just want my goddamn money.”

“ You’re not gonna find it here. Can’t you see he’s sick? The ranch ain’t doin well either. “

“ I don’t care, lady. We ain’t your idea of charity. “

“ So what ? “ she asks and steps up to him, her eyes burning with anger and wrath. She’s so close, Arthur can see even the smallest of freckles as they cover her cheeks like stars in the clear night sky. “ You gonna kill him cause he can’t pay back the few lousy dollars he owes you? “

“ If that’s what it takes. Ain’t no dollar lousy for someone who got none. “ he tries to reach around her, to grab Mr. Drownes again and instill a little more fear, get some cash out of him even if it’s not all he owes. Though the woman doesn’t have any of it, she steps back into his path, shielding the sick man from Arthur’s rage.

“ Stop!”

“ Woman, get outta ma damn way.”

“ No! “

“ Ma’am, I ain’t the kind of guy that slaps a woman around but you’re going on my nerves real bad. “

“ You are free to leave. “

“ Not without ma money!”

“ Okay, okay, “ she holds her hands out in front of her in a gesture to calm him down. Like he’s a wild horse stomping his hooves and bucking up on his hind legs. “ I’ll pay. I don’t got no money but I have something else. If I give it to you, will you leave him alone? “

Arthur considers it for a moment. For a second he wonders why it matters to her. Why she’d give her valuables for a family that ain’t hers. But then again, he’d give his life for Dutch and Hosea and the gang, and ain’t none of them bound to him by blood.

“ Is it worth anything? “

“ It’s worth good money. “

“ Then yes. “

“ I need to get it, follow me then. “

It’s not a question, it’s a demand. It’s really not her place to make any demands but Arthur doesn’t mind. As long as she’s giving him something valuable he can live with the attitude.

The woman gives Thomas Downes another look-over, making sure he’s fine to stand on his own before patting his arm affectionately and turning back towards Arthur.

Little fly-away hair sticks to her skin that’s slick with the summer heat and the sun reflecting in her eyes turns them a vibrant shade of blue. It’s quite the sight, a girl like her turning into a real firecracker.

She stomps past him, dirt clinging to her boots as she hikes her skirt a little higher. Her clothes are quite something, Arthur thinks. The skirt is a blue and grey gingham pattern and her blouse is white and flowy with several colorful flowers embroidered onto it. There’s some frilly stuff hanging from the sleeves and the collar. Quite … something. But hell, what does he know.

“ Lemme tell you, Ma’am. Ya better not try any funny business. I ain’t here to joke around.”

It’s not that he distrusts her in particular. It’s that all his life he’s been taught not to trust anyone except those closest to him. And even that seems questionable these days. His mom died before he could even really get to know her and his dad, he was a good for nothing bastard. Hosea and Dutch, those are the people he trusts. Charles, too. Even John with his hot-headed ideas and big dreams. But not strangers. Never stranger no matter how nice. No matter how beautiful.

Trust makes you vulnerable. Vulnerability kills you. Or at least it chips away at your heart until there’s nothing left.

There’s a small building a few steps away from the main house, not more than a shed really but there are several patches of colorful wildflowers growing by the path leading up to it. Though he doesn’t know her, Arthur can see her living here. With the flowers out front and the sun shining through the one small window.

Arthur feels uneasy as she lets him step into the shed. There’s a bunch of old photographs sitting on a cupboard in the corner and some hung up on the wall behind her bed. It’s been a while since Arthur’s stayed at an actual house, even longer since a place felt like home, if ever. He’s not quite sure if he ever had a one to begin with. Maybe his home’s the prairie.

But this, this place feels awfully homely. It’s bursting with personality and character.

With a groan, the woman reaches down and lifts one of the floorboards, picking up a small wooden box, adorned with several little amber stones. There are words engraved into the lit of the box though he can’t make out what they’re saying.

“ You know, “ she says as her fingers fumble around in the small box “ you ain’t a very nice man. “

“ Never said I was. “

It’s no lie. He’s not a very nice man. He’s robbed people, killed them. He’s beaten an old sick man for a few lousy dollars. He’s not living with false perceptions of himself. He knows exactly the kind of man he is and it ain’t a nice one. But to say the words don’t affect him is a lie. They do, for they are the same words he’s heard from Mary so many many times. Back when he tried to be a nice man. For her.

“ Here you go!” the woman pushes something into his hands before stuffing the box back beneath the floorboard. “ That should be plenty enough. “

Slowly, Arthur opens his hand to reveal several pieces of sparkling jewelry. Two sparkly gold earrings and a ring with a big red stone. Granted, Arthur doesn’t know the first thing about jewelry but even he can tell this stuff is worth a good dollar.

“ It was my mama’s. Was hoping one day I’d find a husband and he’d propose to me with that ring but I — I guess that ain’t happening no more. “

The fire in her eyes is gone and has been replaced with an infinite sadness. The uneasy feeling returns to Arthur’s stomach. It just ain’t right.

“ You ain’t gotta be doing this. They aren’t your debts. “

She lets out a deep sigh before looking back at Arthus, blue eyes brimming with honesty and sadness.

“ Life ain’t so easy, you know? The Downes are the only people I got left. Thomas isn’t doin’ well. If God has mercy on us he lets him live for a few more weeks. That’s the time I got to try and find a new place of work. Edith will lose the Ranch soon as Thomas is in the ground. The goddamn bank is already circling around like vultures. Her and Archie will go west, stay with some family of hers. I’ll be alone then. And the world is cruel to a woman who’s got no husband and no work and no possessions. This family helped me out when my daddy died and I had no place to go, this is just me returning the favor while I still can. “

“ You the maid or something. “

“ Or something. My daddy used to own a general store in the heartlands, close to flatneck station. We used to buy produce from the Downes. Then my mama died and my daddy — well I guess part of him died with her. Things didn’t look so good for us no more but the Downes always did good by me. Always made sure I had food on the table. Then, when my daddy died, they took me in. First I was taking care of Archie, their son, then when he was old enough I started helping around the house and with the crops. It’s why I cherish them so much, why I wanna help ‘em. Don’t even wanna think about what comes next. “

His heart is constricting in weird ways. He shouldn’t be feeling this way. Mercy is not something he can afford. Rich people can. Nice people too. But not him and not the gang. Life just feels so strange lately, like the world has shifted just a little. Enough to throw things out of proportion but too little to make any immediate impacts.

“ Sorry to hear that, Ma’am.”

“ Please don’t call me Ma’am. Makes me feel mighty old. “

“ I’m sorry … Miss ? “

“ Everly. May Everly. “

“ Well, then I’m sorry Miss Everly. I don’t mean no harm, I’m just doin’ ma job.”

That’s not the truth but sometimes it’s easier to tell little lies than to be entirely honest. He’s sorry, that part is true. Sorry that life ain’t being good to her either lately. But he did mean harm, to Mr. Downes at least. Had she not stopped him, worse things could’ve happened. Way worse things.

“ I understand. Just wish your job didn’t entail punching people into the ground. “

Arthur averts his eyes and lets them run up and down the pattern in the wooden floorboards. It’s one thing to be faced with our own shortcomings when your mind is screaming them at you but to have them laid out for you by someone else, a stranger no less, that’s quite a different story and it’s not pleasant.

“ We all gotta survive somehow, I guess. “

“ Maybe you’re right. Maybe we ain’t so different you and I. The world seems like it don’t want either of us no more. “

“ Maybe so. “

A soft hand is placed on Arthur’s arm. So gentle and kind and Arthur wonders how long it’s been since he last felt the touch of a woman. Quite a while if you don’t count the bath-girls at the saloon. He hates the fact that this is where his mind wanders. Ain’t no way this woman would ever even entertain the thought of showing him any affection that rises above a friendly pat on the arm.

“ What’s your name? “

“ Arthur. Arthur Morgan. “

“ Well, Mr. Morgan. Please take the jewelry and let the Downes live how little time they got left in peace. “

“ You sure? “

She nods, sending more hair to pull out of the neat braid and some wildflowers to fall to the ground.

“ But, if I can allow myself to make a request. Could you make sure the ring goes to someone who needs it? Maybe a couple in love. Someone looking to surprise their wife. Just — don’t just pawn it off please. “

“ I’ll keep it in mind. “

“ Thank you, Mr. Morgan. “

A silence settles upon them heavily just the way his heart feels right then. Heavy like the stones that seem to rest inside his stomach for a while now.

“ Have a good day, Miss Everly. Sorry, it has come to this. “

“ Yeah, me too. “

The acidic taste of guilt sits on the tip of his tongue as he steps back outside and walks the path down towards where Mouse is munching away on a patch of grass. Wildflowers are flanking his sides and with every step he takes, his conscience and his heart grow heavier.

When his eyes look up from the ground, Arthur spots another horse grazing next to Mouse. A beautiful Buttermilk Buckskin stands in the midday sun, fur shining like golden silk. It’s a gorgeous horse.

“ Oh, I see you met Beans. Sorry whenever he’s around other horses he naturally gravitates towards them. “

It’s not surprising to him that this horse belongs to May. Though he doesn’t know her at all, has only had one conversation with her, something about her intrigues him. There’s a mystery to her. A certain depth. The way she’s looked straight into his soul when she talked to him was both comforting and scary. Usually, the only person who even understood a tiny bit of his inner working was Hosea and even then with him, it was mostly a guessing game that sometimes hit the spot. Mary-Beth always had an open ear for his problems and seemed to understand whenever he chose to share but her head was always up in the clouds so it was hard to tell if she really understood or if she just repeated pretty words from those books she devoured all the time.

“ Beans.”

“ Yup. I got him when Archie was little, he helped me name him and it kinda stuck. Sorry, he’s bothering your horse. Lemme take him inside the barn. “

“ Nah, it’s alright. This is his home. Mouse doesn’t care anyway. “

“ Mouse? Well, that’s a cute name. Didn’t take her for a Mouse since her fur ain’t gray but … it’s cute. “

“ Sure. “

He doesn’t tell her that the only reason the horse is named Mouse is because back in the day, when they were still young and foolish and in love, Mary had read to him from a book her father had given her. It was about some girl who falls down a rabbit hole and then ends up in some weird fantasy world. He doesn’t remember a thing from it but the fact that there was a Mouse in this story. So his lovesick heart named his new horse after a character from a book the woman he used to love once read to him. Amongst fools, he really is the king. Mary probably doesn’t spend a single second thinking of him and he goes around doing stuff like that.

“ Well, you take care Arthur Morgan. And get Mouse some sugar cubes from the money you make from my jewelry please. “

Arthur lifts himself onto this horse and tips his hat towards May as she leans against her own horse, fingers combing through the black mane.

“ I can do that. You take care too, Miss Everly. “

She bids him goodbye with a smile, one he is most definitely undeserving of. Even after taking something valuable from her, her mother’s ring, her dead mother’s ring, she still grants him a smile.

Life ain’t never been fair to him but he had never deserved for it to be either. Arthur knows he isn’t a good man by any means, today has only proven that further. But her, with her wildflowers and her Horse with the funny name, she seems like no bad thing has ever come from her. Life, Arthur thinks, should favor those who do good. That would only be fair.

But when has life ever been fair.

The encounter stays on his mind way into the night. At the campfire, as Javier strums along on his guitar and sings some Spanish song neither of them has heard before, his thoughts wander back to May and what she said about them being not so different. If only she knew. Women, Arthur has experienced, often don’t seem to grasp the severity of his wrongdoings, of his bad deeds. They like to see him for a romantic version of what they perceive an outlaw to be. He ain’t none of it though.

He looks around the campfire at the familiar faces. This is the first night they all got to come together and celebrate being down from the mountains and out of the snow. There are smiles on everyone’s faces and a mutual sense of belonging falls upon them. This, Arthur thinks, is why he chose this life. The community. The loyalty. The love.

Sometimes you have to fight against the restraints life gives you and find your own path. Find your own family. And he did that, all on his own. In Dutch and Hosea and yes, even fucking Marston. These are his people and if the world don’t want them, at least they’re going down together. A luxury miss Everly doesn’t seem to have.

“ Stop with the silly thought, Arthur!” He scolds himself. “ That ain’t none of your business. Nothing you need to get involved in. You got enough on your plate as it is. “

And he tries to stick to that, he really does. Silly, foolish thoughts are a luxury people like him don’t get to revel in.

Only that’s not entirely true for the next several pages of his diary are filled with sketches of beautiful wildflowers, a horse with golden fur and a black mane. And a girl with flowers in her hair and eyes a bright sky blue that hold the fire of a thousand flames.


	2. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As he rides into Valentine, Arthurs plans on having a drink or two with young Lenny and then returning back to camp. He doesn’t expect running into a familiar face. And spending the next day with that person. And learning about her childhood and her dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, just wanted to say thank you for the Kudos and the comments. I also posted this fic on Tumblr but it won't show up in the tags so people don't really have a chance to see it. I was really down because of that and really really frustrated (still am ngl) but the reception on here was so sweet, so thanks for that.
> 
> Also, I wanna quickly mention that I am German. English is my second language and I try to write as well and as grammatically correct as possible. I also run all my writing through Grammarly. If there are still mistakes please go easy on me. Thank you ♥

The small town of Valentine is an awfully dirty place. Both figuratively and literally. You don’t even have to take two steps and your shoes are already coated with mud. Like the sweltering humidity of the Lemoyne swamps that cling to your skin or the grimy winds coming from the mines of Annesburg that settle on your lungs, the dirt lies upon the town like a thick blanket you just can’t shake off. 

Arthur thinks it’s ironic, how the people turn their noses at him and the gang and their way of living. Of their makeshift camps and on-the-go lifestyle. They scowl at the thought of their tents and bedrolls yet voluntarily move to a town like this where you can’t tell if you’re wading through mud or your neighbors’ shit. 

Then again, Arthur doesn’t care an awful lot for other people’s lives. His own is chaotic and confusing enough, what good could it possibly do to rack his brain about other people’s choices? Least it ain’t quite as bad here as it is in Saint Denis. That place is a cesspool of every single thing Arthur has an unprecedented disdain for. Too many people pretending to be above everyone else just because their jackets got fancy gold buttons.

He can’t picture himself ever living in a place like that. Though to some it might be a place of comfort, of safety, to him it only feels like a cage. And he’d rather die than give up his freedom. 

Mouse slows down to a gentle trot as they approach the Valentine Saloon. A golden glow shines through the newly fixed window of the building and laughter and song echo through the room and flood out into the streets. Lenny hitches his horse next to Mouse and gives Arthur an expectant look “Just one of two, right?” 

“Sure. Just a drink, no drama”

None of the men are getting lots of chances to wind down. Sure some of them are perpetually drunk to some extent but to really get a night off to - to have fun, that’s not a chance that presents itself very often. Living a life like they do, you always have to be alert. Life ain’t your friend so you gotta look out for yourself and your people.

There’s quite a few people inside, drinking and eating and laughing. Sometimes Arthur wonders what his life would be like if he had married Mary and given up on the gang. Would he spend his free time here drinking away his sorrows and his feelings of inadequacy compared to Mary and all she could’ve had? Or would they wander into town every once in a while, grab a bite to eat, and enjoy each other’s company?

He shakes his head to push the thoughts away. There’s no use in getting lost in what-ifs. They’re just another reminder of what he can’t have and what he messed up.

“You,” the Barkeeper approaches, pointing at Arthur as he leans against the bar “ I don’t want no trouble!”

Arthur raises his hands in mock surrender “And you ain’t getting none from me. I was just defending myself.”

Though his eyes still hold a hint of doubt the barkeeper seems to be satisfied with that answer. Something tells Arthur that he isn’t the first person butting heads with that damn Tommy guy.

Lenny regards the exchange with a smirk playing on his lips as a shake of his head.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just … do I wanna know?”

“Nah don’t think you do.”

They share a laugh and receive their drinks and for a moment, Arthur’s heart feels a bit less heavy. For a second the weight of the world doesn’t rest inside his chest. Like he can be unbothered for just a night.

Two drinks in he leans his back against the bar and lets his eyes wander around the Saloon. Drunk fools stumbling over each other, a piano player belting out melodies, smiles upon smiles and songs, and music. 

In the furthest corner of the place, a woman sits alone by a table, a plate untouched in front of her. She seems too fancy to end up in a dump like this. Her hair is pulled up in intricate braids and her blouse has frilly lace in the front. Something about her intrigues Arthur. 

The first time he ever laid eyes on Mary an electrical current surged through his system like waves crashing to the shore. She was beautiful and smart and she spoke like she knew the world belonged to her. He never felt deserving of her and he never was but for a while she let him believe it. She was beautiful and soft and she wasn’t … she wasn’t what he’d known all his life. And maybe that’s also part of what intrigued her when it came to him. The excitement and the unknown. But that novelty wore off for her rather quickly it seems. The night she broke the engagement and his heart, he doesn’t remember that night but he does remember the pain.

Looking at the woman in the corner, he doesn’t feel the excitement or the sense that he needs to have her in his life, the way he did with Mary. That doesn’t mean he’s unaware of his intrigue. As much as he doesn’t want to get involved with other people’s drama, he sure likes to hear their stories. After all, ain’t that what our life is made of? Stories. One after another. Sometimes you’re the main character and sometimes an onlooker. Sometimes your the hero and sometimes - sometimes you ain’t.

When she lifts her head though, a strange sensation floods through him. Though the dimly lit room doesn’t allow him to get a perfectly good look at her, Arthur can immediately read the sadness on her face. It’s radiating from her. He knows it ain’t his fault, at least not entirely but still, a pang of guilt settles in his stomach. A knowledge that he ain’t innocent in any of this either. Seeing her brings back all the heaviness and the weight that rests on his heart. It floods back in and clings to him like cigarette smoke.

He wants to leave now. Just get out of here and take Mouse for a ride through the fields and valleys and relish in the great wide somewhere. But he can’t. His legs feel like they’re stuck to the ground like flies on a honeypot. He feels guilt sometimes, about his deeds. Especially when the people don’t deserve his unkindness. He’s never really felt like this before. Then again, usually, they don’t have to face their doings again.

Drinking his third beer, he tries to ignore her. He genuinely does. It ain’t his fault and it ain’t his problem. Why should he care? No one asked her to pawn off her jewelry for a mistake she didn’t commit. Maybe that’s exactly the problem though, the knowledge that she’s a good person and the fact that Arthur voluntarily chose not to extend the same kindness towards her.

A commotion from the corner pulls his attention back towards her. A big burly man with a frizzy, unkept beard stands beside her table, leaning on it for support. A bottle dangles from his fingers and the sway in his posture tells Arthur that he’s way deep in by this point.

“I’m just tryin’ to be nice Miss. Ain’t no reason to get feisty on me.”

“Can you please let me enjoy my dinner in peace?”

“Come on sweetheart, lemme buy you a drink at least. Then maybe I can take you up to one of them rooms. How ‘bout that.”

“That’s disgusting and I said no!”

Though he can’t see her eyes, he’s sure they’re filled with the same fire and wrath that had been directed at him just a few weeks ago. With every moment passing, he gravitates more towards her, ready to jump in if the man got any more stupid ideas running through his head.

There’s a special place in hell for men who can’t extend a certain amount of respect towards the fair gender. He knows that even some men in his own group, his own family, often seem to forget that and Arthur is the first to call ‘em out on it. They call him soft for it but he doesn’t think that’s him being soft as much as it’s him basically being raised by two men who value women for what they are. Smart and beautiful and human beings worthy of being treated with respect. Not objects for their own enjoyment and entertainment.

“Lady, I ain’t gonna be asking so nicely no more.”

“Is there a problem here?”

May’s eyes snap up towards Arthur as he approaches the table and he catches a glimpse of the flames, passionate and … pissed off. Though as they fall on him, a kind of calmness washes over her and he isn’t quite sure if he likes it or if it makes him nervous. 

“Just a dispute between two lovers, ain’t that right Dove? None of your concern, buddy.”

“We ain’t lovers you delusional rat !”

Arthur can’t help but let out a laugh at her insult. It fits the guy, really, though his frame is broad and meaty, he’s got beady eyes and a long face.

“You better shut your mouth you-“

As the man lifts his arm, that’s when Arthur really sees red and takes a step in between him and May who, despite her best efforts, can’t suppress the worry and fear settling on her face.

“Nah, I suggest you shut up and get the fuck out of this place. They just fixed the window and it would be an awful mess if I had to break it again when I throw you out. Of course, I could also shoot or stab you right here right now but, I don’t think that’s in any of our best interests now, is it?”

Arthur’s voice is low and deep and though that’s both a result of bad genes and chain-smoking, it does come in handy every once in a while. Mary–Beth had once told him that it gives him a sense of perpetual danger and toughness. 

The man stares at Arthur, unsure of what to do. His eyes then shift towards May, back to Arthur and back and forth one more time. Carefully he considers his next move and then — then he shrugs his shoulders in defeat, huffs out an annoyed sigh and turns around, leaving the saloon with the slam of a door.

“What a horrible horrible man.”

“Sorry about that”

May rests a gentle hand on Arthur’s arm and signals for him to sit down, which he does - reluctantly. Again she extends a kindness towards him he is severely undeserving of.

“What are you apologizing for? You ain’t don’t nothing wrong. “

“Oh, I’ve done plenty of things wrong in ma life.”

“I meant right then. What brings you here then, Mr. Morgan? Spending my money on a beer?”

Though she says it with a smirk and not a hint of malice, it still sends a sting to his chest though. He could ease his mind and tell her that he hasn’t sold the ring, hasn’t even put it in the camp’s collective. The earrings yes but not the ring. It still sits in his saddlebag waiting for — well he isn’t exactly sure what for.

“Just having a drink with ma friend over there and saving women from delusional rats it seems. What about you amiss Everly? What’s gotten you dressed up so fancy? You look like one of them ladies on the poster they hang by the theatre in Saint Denis.”

She scoffs then takes a bite of her lamb fry. “Glad you think so but unfortunately that ain’t no consolation to me.”

“What happened?”

He’s well aware that he has no right to ask her about it. They hardly know each other and yet she’s been so open and forward from the first second she opened her mouth that day he came around the Downes Ranch, it doesn’t feel strange asking her about it. It feels natural. Like the right thing to do.

“ Well since Thomas ain’t doing good and I’m looking for a new place of work I thought about finally taking a leap and making my dream come true. But, as you know, I am no woman of a big fortune nor do I come from a family of money. I was trying to get a loan from the bank of Valentine but …. no luck.”

“Huh, ‘m sorry about that.” He’s not exactly sure what he’s sorry about. The fact that Mr. Downes is dying or the fact that she wasn’t granted a loan. Or maybe both. Probably a bit of both.

“Ah,” she shrugs “I’d already expected this outcome. Some big-shot oil tycoon from Saint Denis already has his eyes on my piece of land anyway so the money is only the first obstacle.”

“Piece of land? You wanna become a rancher now?”

May lets out a sweet chuckle, “ No. I wanna be a teacher. I want to build a school for Valentine.”

“A school? What for?”

“Well … to teach. The world is changing, Mr. Morgan. We’re living in the age of progress but what good does it do us if we have machines taking us anywhere and everywhere when we can’t read even the most simple of instructions? We owe it to the children to start the progress with them.”

Arthur has never set a single foot inside a real school all he’s ever learned he learned on the road. From Dutch and Hosea. Reading and writing were never something he was particularly fond of learning but now that he’s older, even he can admit that it’s a big advantage in life.

“If you say so.”

“I do. I taught Archie to read. Edith too. I think it’s a luxury we should all be able to afford.”

“ Well, I ain’t gonna disagree with that. Let me buy you a drink.”

She takes the last bite of her lamb, then wipes up the remaining gravy with a potato, before softly tapping a napkin to her lips. “That’s very sweet of you but I should go. I have a room at the hotel for the night and I’m quite concerned that if I agree to one drink I will agree to more and then I won’t make it to my room and that’s just money wasted now ain’t it.”

For a second he wants to be brash. Wants to tell her that he wouldn’t mind making sure she gets to her room safe and sound. Wouldn’t mind joining her there. But while he lets himself think it, it just ain’t his personality to speak those words. Especially not to a woman who shows him kindness time and time again when all he ever does is disappoint and do the wrong things.

“Alright, Miss. You stay safe out there. I sincerely hope it all works out for you. With that school and all. “

May places her small hand on his stubbly cheek, warm from the alcohol coursing through his system and the gentle touch of a woman.

“Oh don’t make this sound like a goodbye. Our paths will cross again, I know so. Trust me, Arthur!”

He likes the way his name sounds falling from her lips. Likes her warm smooth skin on his. Like the sincerity in her eyes and the fire softly burning beneath it. He likes this girl and that’s one scary thought. Ain’t nothing good ever happened to the girls he liked.

“You have a good night, Miss Everly.”

As he returns to the bar, Lenny already fixes Arthur with a look of amusement and mischief. His eyes are glossed over from the drinks and his balance don’t seem to work quite as he’d like.

“So who was that pretty lady?”

Just the woman he hasn’t been able to get out of his head since he met her. The one he’s been sketching in his diary over and over again. The one he ain’t don’t right by. The one that’s way too good for him.

“No one. Just some girl. Now how about another drink, Lenny ma boy?”

The night goes by in a flash. It’s a blur of yelling and dancing and laughing and fighting. Of searching for Lenny, several times. Of walking into a room he has no business walking into. Of making friends and enemies. And then fade to black.

That is until the next day when the midday sun beats mercilessly down onto his tired body, slumped against the trunk of a mostly barren tree. It’s the sun that wakes him up. The sun and — her.

May stands before him like a goddess in an ancient story from a foreign country. The sun shines behind her veiling her in a golden glow, giving her a gleaming halo.

“Look at you, I told you our paths would cross again. Why are you down there?”

“Fell asleep.”

“On the floor?”

“It happens.”

His voice is rough with sleep and exhaustion from the night before. He ain’t as young as he used to be and nights like the previous one leave marks now. It’s something he doesn’t like to admit but something he has to come to terms with.

“I know it’s past noon but I can offer you some breakfast if you like,” May exclaims pointing towards her horse and the little wicker basket strapped to the saddlebag. “Well it’s lunch for me but breakfast for you. I got coffee too.”

Arthur rubs the sleep from his eyes and scratches his beard in contemplation. He’s got nothing to do today and he’s, he could be checking up on Dutch and his plans but with the way things are right now, he doesn’t really mind getting some time away from all that mess. Micah is also waiting for him in a cell in Strawberry but that’s so far down on Arthur’s list of things to do. That nasty son of a bitch can rot there for a while longer. Might do him some good, actually.

“Coffee sounds mighty fine.”

“Alright, you’ll have to follow me though. “

“Sure. Lemme get Mouse real quick. “

Arthur drags his tired body back towards the Saloon and a few minutes later he returns, now straddling Mouse and carrying a big bundle of fur on the back of his horse.

“What in the world is that,” May asks, swinging herself back onto Beans.

“Fur of a grizzly.”

“No way! You’re a hunter, then?”

The two of them fall into a slow trot next to each other with May walking just a tad in front of him leading the way.

“Ain’t much of a hunter. Just pure luck. Had help from my —“

What exactly was Hosea to him? His father, kind of but it wouldn’t feel right calling him that. He had had a father, albeit a pretty poor example of it. But he’s more than a friend. He’s family.

“ from a family member.”

“I think you’re allowed to take pride in this, Arthur. It’s a nice fur and it seems like it was one big fella. That’s something not a lot of people can do. Allow yourself to be proud.”

Pride, Arthur knows, makes men do foolish things. It makes them feel invincible. Makes them stop paying attention. It leaves them vulnerable. Pride ain’t doing no one no good.

“Whatever. Where we going anyway?”

“Oh, I’m just going to break my own heart real quick,” May says as if it’s a completely normal thing to exclaim. 

They gallop on for a short while until she stops at the top of a small hill. Slowly, not moving her eyes away from the patch of land before her, she gets off of her horse and takes the wicker basket. “Come, let’s sit down by the trees.”

A row of oak trees provides some shade from the burning sun as they sit down on the warm prairie grass. For a moment the world is still. Not silent but still. Soft and comfortable. The scent of coffee fills the air, waves along with the desert winds. The mug May hands to him, it’s warm in his hand and for the first time in a long time, Arthur feels at peace with himself and the world.

“This is it,” May announces and, arms spread out wide, gestures to the land before them.

“Well I must say, this is quite impressive,” Arthur humors her, voice laced with sarcasm.

“Oh, you big oaf. Stop making fun of me. This is the piece of land I wanted to buy. The school was supposed to sit right there. Walking distance for the children of Valentine and the surrounding ranches. Now it belongs to Mr. Robert Montgomery and god knows what he’ll put here.”

“I’m real sorry about it. I ain’t ever really had a dream like that but I bet it’s not a nice feeling. It’s a damn shame too. Can see you teaching them kids some things.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure.”

She looks wistfully across the valley, a glimpse of longing sparkling in her eyes. “It’s all I’ve wanted to do since I was a little girl. My daddy never had much and he wasn’t a good man but he was honest and he was a hard worker. My momma was soft and sweet like honey. She made him more gentle. Made life sweet for him. They both came from nothing but when they had me they wanted to make sure they gave me everything I needed to survive in this world. To make something of myself. Momma learned to read and write from an older lady who lived across the street and taught it to me and my daddy. From him, I learned to fish, to hunt, to skin and prepare animals. I think with the way they gave me all this knowledge they wanted me to become good at something and make that my crime. Instead, I became passionate about sharing knowledge. About giving this education to other children. That’s where our future rests, ain’t it? The children?”

She’s right. Whenever he looks at Jack. Whenever he watches Abigail or John look at Jack, all he sees is the hope that he turns out better. That his life doesn’t rest with them. That there is more for him than robbing and plundering.

“Do you have children?”

It’s an innocent question but it manages to hurt him more than any other question probably could. It reaches all the dark corners of his heart he tries so hard to ignore. He doesn’t have children, but he had. Past tense. Ring a father, another role he failed at filling. He ain’t never been a good father to Isaac. He wasn’t there when it mattered. Wasn’t there when they killed him for a meager 10$.

“Nah.”

“Did you go to school?”

Arthur scoffs a laugh at that, imagining himself young and wild sitting in a classroom with a bunch of other rowdy kids. 

“No. Never. I was taught how to write and read by my family. Like you.”

“See, I told you we ain’t so different.”

Her smile, it sends another shiver through him. Not uncomfortable but oh so scary. She doesn’t know the kind of person he is. The one he really is. A bad person. The goddamn villain of the story.

Everything in him screams at him to go. To leave her alone. To not get in any deeper. But for one day, just this one time, he wants to allow himself to relish in a what-if. So he stays and they relax in the shade as the sun fills the valleys with rays of gold.

They stay there for so long, that Arthur is sure the sun has turned his skin a shade of red. When they get back on their horses, he notices the crown of white daisies sitting on top of Mouse’s head. A crown matching the one adoring May’s. The white flowers shine atop her flowing red locks like little stars when the setting sun is coloring the sky a blood-red but the stars have come out to play already.

Her hair is down for the first time since he’s met her and she looks beautiful. Like the wilderness and the calm all at once.

“Thanks for listening to my dreams, Arthur Morgan.”

“Thanks for sharing them, May Everly.”

Her name sounds sweet on his tongue. 

“Now don’t look so blue. We’ll meet again, I know it. I was right last time, wasn’t I?”

“You were.”

And as she rides away, red hair flowing in the wind like the wings of a Phoenix, Arthur hopes she’s right again this time. He ain’t ready to let go of the way she makes him see the world and her and himself. Not yet.


	3. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After reconnecting with Mary, Arthur struggles with his feelings of inadequacy and wonders if he really is as bad of a man as Mary’s family always made him out to be. Then he runs into the girl with the fiery red hair and for one single night, he gets to feel alive and free. Only with the sun rising comes the realization that none of this is meant to last and life ain’t kind to people like him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this entirely on my iPad so please excuse any spelling mistakes. I will go back and edit it once I can find the time to do so on my laptop. I also didn't really edit this at all in terms of plot, I really just wanted to get it done. I might go back and change up a few things but if I do I will let you know. Thanks for understanding :)

“ Oh you’ll never change. I know that. “ 

Mary’s words still ghost through Arthur’s mind long after the train has gotten out of sight. She ain’t wrong and maybe that’s the part that hurts the most. No matter how hard he tries to be a better person, it just ain’t working. It never will. For a whisper of a second there, when she stepped out of the house and looked at him with those damn gentle eyes, he thought that maybe things had changed. That maybe after all this time he could be enough. 

And then Jaime’s words brought him back to reality. “ Maybe Mary did make the right choice.” 

There’s truly no doubt about it. Everything is how it should be. Without him, Mary is safe. And sure maybe she has to worry about her father going off the rails or her brother making a dumb decision, but her life isn’t in danger. That’s worth everything.

But even though it all makes sense and the rational part of his brain knows this is what’s best for both of them, it doesn’t spare Arthur the all consuming emptiness that settles deep inside his stomach.

Dusk settles upon the little town of Valentine like a big blanket of orange and golden silk as Arthur steps back into the train station building. A few people mull around the benches, luggage piled next to them and excited smiles prominent on their faces. It all just manages to make him feel even more sorry for himself. To look at how life could’ve been had he made different choices in the past. Maybe he’d be standing here with Mary waiting to board a train that would take them to their next destination.

He’s just about to leave the push open the heavy double doors and step out into the night, as a head of fiery red hair catches his eyes.

May leans against the counter, giving the clerk a friendly smile as she hands him an envelope and a few coins. 

As she turns around, her hair whips around her like burning embers in the summer wind.

“Mr. Morgan!”

There’s a hint of joyful delight hidden in her tone and it does something to Arthur he can’t explain. People don’t usually get excited about seeing him. They either regard him with disgust or fear. Most of the time it’s a mix of the two even. If a woman like her can see even the slightest hint of a redeeming quality in him, can he really be that bad?

“Good evening, Miss Everly.”

“Well don’t you look a little down in the dumps. What’s the matter pretty boy?”

“Ah don’t humor me, Miss. I ain’t pretty and I sure ain’t a boy no more.”

May shrugs him off with the rise and fall of her shoulders. In the corner of her lips, there’s a smirk hidden. It’s small and hardly noticeable if you don’t pay real close attention but it’s there and Arthur likes to think that it’s here for him specifically. No matter how foolish that thought may be, it’s a nice one and sometimes even the grumpiest men have to allow themselves to indulge in those silly thoughts.

“Speak for yourself. So …?”

“So what?”

“What’s putting that frown on your face? Seems to be an even bigger one that the frown you usually wear.”

For a second he entertains the idea of sharing his sorrows with her. Of unloading all the unspoken fears he harbors in his mind and the heartbreak he’s silently suffering through. But would she really want to hear that? Is it fair of him to put that burden on her? Surely it ain’t. So he just shrugs his shoulders and waves her off. “Ah it ain’t nothing, really. Just ain’t my day today.”

“Guess that makes two of us.”

It’s then that he really takes her in. Her hair is disheveled and her eyes look red and tired. Like she’d been crying. There’s something about this woman that awakens a side of him he hasn’t seen or felt in a long time. She’s so awfully kind and life seems to enjoy throwing rocks and boulders at her. If he could, he’d try and shield her from those. Why? That’s a question he keeps asking himself. He hardly knows this woman. And yet, maybe you don’t need to know someone well to know when life isn’t being fair to them.

“ What's wrong? Some men giving you trouble again?”

“Oh men are always trouble but that’s why we women love 'em so much. No it’s none of that. Not really. It’s uh - well everything else really. Thomas passed away a few days ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

And he really is. Guilt is bubbling inside of him like hot water in a kettle that’s been left on a hot stove for too long. Though he knows the man was sick to begin with, he can’t help but feel like his rough approach didn’t help him any.

“Yeah it's terrible really. Edith and Archie are off to stay with some relatives in Annesburg and I just sent a letter to my dear cousin taking her up on her offer to let me stay with her.”

“I wanna think that’s a good thing but your face is telling me otherwise.”

“She’s a seamstress in Saint-Denis. Married to a man who works at the bank. They live a good life, a comfortable one. But it’s — it’s not the life I ever wanted to live. She keeps talking about this friend of her husband’s who can’t wait to meet me. He’s some kind of bookkeeper. Proper and safe and awfully dull. But that’s my best chance of survival I guess.”

“Ain’t that every woman's dream? A good wealthy husband, nice little house in a big city?”

“I don’t know about every woman but it sure ain’t mine. “ May says as they make their way out of the building. “Saint-Denis is loud and big and it makes me feel trapped. “

“Trapped? “

“I grew up here, Arthur. The heartlands. Big fields, open valleys. I can ride a few steps and bath in a crystal clear river or walk off my front porch and feed the deer that come grazing by the ranch. What does the city have to offer me? Smog and noise and cobblestone streets. “

It makes perfect sense to him. Maybe more than anything ever did. He’s far from fond of the cities either. He tries to avoid them, especially Saint-Denis with its buzzing crowds and the huge factories covering the place in a perpetual blanket of black smoke. 

“So then don’t go.”

“You silly man, what choice do I have?”

He wishes he could answer that. Sweep her off her feet and take her back to camp. Make her part of this family he’s found over the years. She’d fit in, no doubt. But it’s a life on the edge of a sword, constantly staring right into the barrel of a gun. Would that be any better s life than the one she’s heading into? At least that man and that place mean safety for her. All he and the gang can guarantee is a community and a sense of belonging. And while it’s all he’s ever known, she deserves so much more.

“When are you leaving”

“Train arrives tomorrow at noon.”

“So this is your last night then?”

“It is. My heart feels awfully heavy.”

And though he won’t admit it now or ever, seeing the sadness in her eyes and hearing the sorrow in her voice, it makes his little black heart crack even more than it already is.

“Let’s not waste any more time then. Let’s go!” Arthur exclaims while swinging himself onto Mouse’s back. 

“Go where?”

“Nowhere? Everywhere? I dunno. It’s your last night, where do you wanna go? I got all night and a fine bottle of whiskey.”

For a second he thinks she’s gonna decline and really, Arthur isn’t quite sure himself what’s he’s proposing either, all he knows is that he can’t bear to see her this sad any longer. May regards him with a mix of confusion and surprise. And then she smiles and pulls herself onto the horse.

“ Let me show you my home, then.”

“ Sure, lead the way.”

As they ride off into the night, surrounded by the chirping of crickets and the glow of fireflies, Arthur doesn’t care where she’s going, he’ll follow her either way, even if she leads him to the end of the earth and further.

———————————————-

Rainbow Creek sits at the most western part of the Heartlands, nestled somewhere between Valentine and Flat neck Station, south of Caliban's Seat and right by the Dakota River. Or well, it sat there. Now it’s but a few collapsed buildings and remains of a small little town that used to be.

“That was our house,” May exclaims pointing towards what can only be described as a pile of wood and stones that once resembled a house. We had a cute little house, yellow with white shutters and a red door. My momma and I painted it one summer. 

“What happened to this place,” Arthur asks as his eyes take all of what is left of May’s past.

“ Same thing that’s happening to the both of us. The world changed and there wasn’t a place for it no more. People kept moving away to the bigger cities, Valentine and strawberry and Blackwater, some even went as far as Saint-Denis. That’s where the progress was, not here. Not anymore.”

“It ain’t right.”

“No it ain’t but what are you gonna do about it? There’s bravery in knowing when to admit defeat.”

Arthur nods solemnly. 

“ We were happy here though and we tried. We tried so hard to stay and make it work for us. But then my momma died in the summer and daddy went not long after and the Downes Ranch became my new home. We were the last ones left. And now all I have is memories.”

“They good ones?”

“Oh they are the happiest.”

She sends him another of her signature May Everly smiles. The ones that rival the sun in their radiance. In their warmth. 

“Don’t this make you even sadder? I wanted to — “ Arthur stops himself because quite honestly he isn’t so sure how to end the sentence. What did he want? 

“ To what?”

“ I — I don’t know.”

May lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a chuckle and a scoff as she shakes her head in frustration. Her wild curls swaying with her every move like the branches of a willow in the summer breeze. “One day I’ll get you to talk to me, sad boy. One day I will. “

“You keep on trying, Miss”

He can’t suppress the smile that’s pulling at the corner of his lips. His mind ain’t s place of great mystique or wonder. It’s crowded and loud and chaotic and if she knew only half of how messy it is, she wouldn’t care for it very much. But it’s nice to know that someone, at least, thinks they’re intrigued by him, his thoughts, his feelings. It’s nice to pretend every once in a while. 

“Hey Arthur,” May calls out to him, mischief dripping from her mouth.

“What?”

“Catch me, you cowpoke!”

As soon as the words tumble from her lips she’s taken off, Beans but a flash of golden hair as they make their way through the trees and down a little ridge leading towards the riverbed. 

Her laughter sounds through the night like the call of a wolf to his pack. Wild and free and unbothered by any rules. It reminds him of the way he used to be, when he was younger and things with Dutch and the gang weren’t so strained and complicated. Back then the world felt like it was his, theirs. Like they were invincible. Free. 

Now, not so much.

But being here with May, it makes him remember the feeling even if it’s just for a moment.

So he spurs on Mouse to follow, to ride faster through the dark, as the stars and the moon illuminate the path.

Rounding the corner, Arthur catches sight of the red haired woman as she stands in the shallow part of the river, water reaching up to her knees. The moon veils her in a silver glow and the smile on her face provides the warmth. Of what a sight. Oh! what a feeling. To be young and foolish and reckless and —.

He doesn’t finish the sentence because there’s no sense in it. He’ll just keep those thoughts to himself where they can’t hurt anyone but him.

“What are you doing, you crazy lady?”

“Saint-Denis water ain’t this nice, I bet. Let me soak up the last drops of my youth, my freedom. “

“You’re gonna catch a cold, that’s what’s gonna happen. Maybe pneumonia even. Bad thing.”

“Oh come on, Arthur. You can swim, can’t ya?”

“Sure I can. I ain’t that fool, Mars ton.”

“Who?”

“Ah it don’t matter. Get outta there.”

“Uh-uh. Guess if you want to share that Whiskey you’ll have to get me outta here yourself. Or are you afraid of getting a little wet, cowboy?”

She splashes some water at him, laughs as he shakes his head in mock frustration. She sure is something though every little inch of irritation he feels gets buried under so much fondness for the way she makes him feel, it don’t matter none in the end.

“Oh you asked for it. Don’t say I didn’t warn you”

His boots sink into the soggy mud of the riverbank as he hops off of Mouse and stalks towards the water. It’s a silly waste of time, he’s awfully aware of this and yet there’s nowhere else he’d rather be right then. Life ain’t easy on him lately, not that it ever has, so he feels like he deserves this. A moment to feel like the boy he never got to be. He deserves this lightness that comes with this. The joy of being silly and reckless and goofing around in the water with a beautiful girl that makes his knees feel like jelly.

And to think that just a few hours ago he felt like someone had pushed him in front of a train.

As he wades through the water, a smile on his face and eyes locked on the red haired beauty in front of him, Mary’s words are but distant shadows on his mind. 

Their laughter carries through the night like a song, the splashing of water the percussion, the crickets the strings.

As they chase each other around the riverbank, Arthur can’t help but send a wish towards the heavens, towards whoever or whatever might look down on him. A wish for more moments like this one. Soft and tender and — fun.

Taking a few big strides, Arthur catches up to May, whose hair sticks to her face in thick damp strands of red. Softly and without thinking, he grabs a hold of her waist, lifts her out of the water and twirls her around. She’s everywhere then. Her skin against his palms, her giggle in his ears, her eyes on his. She’s all consuming. Swallows him whole. And he shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, but a man has only so much self-control, so he lets himself indulge in it.

Gently Arthur lowers her back to the ground and feels her small hands wrap around his neck. There’s a sizzling in the air, like the electricity right before a thunderstorm. 

“I ain’t a good man, Miss Everly.”

“I never asked you to be one,” she responds with a voice so warm and gentle it might as well be made of honey. She’s so close, he can feel the heat radiating from her body, the rise and fall of her chest, her breath against his skin.

There’s an infinite sadness that comes with realizing your sweet on someone you can’t have. There’s an ever more awful sadness in the realization that you can have them but shouldn’t. That having them is only gonna cause pain and suffering. There’s an infinite sadness in realizing that you’re the worst thing that could happen to the person you’re sweet on.

“Tell me to stay, “ she whispers into the night. It’s a request he wants so desperately to fulfill and though he’s not a good man by any means, he’s good enough not to do so. Sometimes being a good person means sacrificing the things you want. Means making decisions that hurt you and the ones you care about in order to spare them more harm in the future.

“I can’t do that.”

“ Why not?”

“ Cause it ain’t right. This ain’t the life you ought to be living.”

“Neither is sitting in a cage in dirty Saint-Denis.”

“ But you’ll be safe there. “

She sighs and drops her hands from around his neck. Her shoulders sink in defeat and the grief in her eyes sends a primal urge through him to pull her closer and never let her go. But he doesn’t. Isn’t that what she said earlier? There’s bravery in knowing when to admit defeat. This is him waving the white flag. This is him surrendering.

“You’re probably right, I’m speaking nonsense. I ain’t ever meant to get you caught in my own mess.”

“It ain’t that, it really ain’t. I need you to know that.”

“Sure.”

“May—“

“It’s getting cold, let’s get a fire going how about that.”

Arthur Morgan is a damn fool most of the time. It even he knows there’s no arguing with a woman once she’s made it clear that a conversation is over. So he keeps his mouth shut and follows her out of the water, trying to ignore the shiver that runs down his spine. Maybe it’s from the air hitting his damp clothes, or maybe it’s from the realization that as soon as the sun comes up, his time with May will be coming to an end.

———————————————

The fire burns and crackles and sends hues of reds and oranges upon their faces as they sit side by side on top of a little hill overlooking the vast valleys of New Hanover.

“If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you want to live?” May asks, leaning her head against Arthur’s shoulder. Though things are a bit strained now, they settle into a moment of intimacy as the crackle of the firewood promises to keep their secrets.

Arthur considers his answer, mulls over her question once, then twice. He’s never had a place that felt like home. Home was never a house or a piece of land or even a certain point on a map. Home was always the people he loved. Home was with his mother while she was alive. Then with his father, the lousy bastard. Then with Dutch and Hosea. Home is where they are. For a while Mary too. But well… her home never seemed to lie with him.

“I don’t know. I never had a real home. Don’t really matter as long as I got my people, you know? Somewhere warm would be nice. Don’t care much for the cold. “

“Yeah me neither.”

“Just hope that when I die they bury me somewhere nice. Looking out across the fields and valleys. Watching the sunrise over it all.”

“That’s a nice thought. Even if it’s a bit early to think about death, don’t you think. You’re what, 30 something?”

“ 36”

“That’s no age to die.”

“Well all die one way or another. Some sooner some later. Hoping for a good end, a good resting place, it makes it less scary.”

“I guess that’s a nice sentiment. And yet, I don’t want you to think like that. The world needs you Arthur Morgan.”

“ Don't seem like it.”

“Well mine does. It would be awfully dull without you.”

He doesn’t respond to those words. He’s quite honestly the last thing she needs in her life and yet, those words feel soothing to his wounds, the ones that run deep across his heart.

All he does, is lean his head against hers and bask in her company. He’s not the person she thinks he is, not the one she makes him out to be in her mind but whenever they’re around each other, it feels like he can be that man. If only just for a moment. 

And as the sun rises above the horizon, he tries to hold on to that man for just a bit longer.

———————————

Mouse and Beans are hitched next to each other at the hitching pole in front of Valentine Station. Beans, May has told Arthur on their ride back, is gonna be picked up by a friend of hers in a few hours and will stay at their Ranch until May has settled into her new life in the city. Once she has things figured out, she’ll make sure to get the horse back. “ He’s my best friend.” She’s told him and Arthur could suppress the smile those words brought to.

The sun is high in the sky as the whistle of a train sounds from the distance. Both Arthur and May know their time is up. This means goodbye. Maybe not for forever but surely for now. This is the first step for her into a future unknown and unpleasant. 

“ I’m scared.”

“Don’t be. You got fire in your eyes and your heart. You’ll be fine, they won’t know what hit ‘em once you make that city yours.”

“My heart stays here with the valleys and the fields and the wildflowers.”

He has no doubt about it.

They both want to say so much more. So many words sitting on the top of their tongues so many touches still resting on fingertips. And yet they stay put because this ain’t the time or place. The magic of the night is over and gone and all that’s left is the remains of a future they never got to explore. An abundance of what-ifs.

Arthur helps her put the luggage on the train as is stops by the platform, his heart feeling heavy, as if someone had buried it underneath a pile of rocks. In the matter of 24 hours he’s bid two women goodbye that left marks on him in ways neither of them will ever truly know. A woman from a past that wasn’t meant to be and a woman with a future they never got to experience.

Life is rough all over.

“You’ll be fine, you hear me. You’ll have a good life, I know it. “

“Goodbye Arthur Morgan,” she says and places a soft kiss on his stubbly cheek “you’re a good man. Don’t ever change.”

He wants to say so much. But his tongue feels like it weighs too much.

He places a soft kiss her hand and looks deep into her eyes. “Goodbye May,” he murmurs and steps off the train watching her as it grows smaller and smaller in the distance.

There’s bravery in knowing when to admit defeat. Right then, Arthur feels like he’s lost an entire war.


	4. The horse and the Frenchman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur comes across a very familiar-looking horse in a place where it really doesn't belong. Then there's his reunion with Mary that goes as well as anyone could've guessed. And to top it all off, he spots a familiar face on the canvas in Mr. Charles Chateney's gallery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, hope you enjoy this chapter. I really enjoyed writing it :)  
> As always, I am German so please do cut me some slack when it comes to spelling or grammar mistakes. I try my best ♥

The heat that rests over Clemens Point and the entirety of Lemoyne is different than the one at Horseshoe Overlook. It’s heavy and thick like molasses, like tar. It sends a feeling of perpetual exhaustion through the camp. 

Softly, the water laps at the shore, and at least down here, a slight breeze punches through the sweltering heat, giving you a chance to breathe through the thick air. Arthur leans against the fallen tree, trying to soak up as much of the fresh wind as he possibly can, as his fingers scribble yet another sketch into his journal. It’s been the same drawing for weeks now, maybe months? Time is a strange thing to keep a hold of when every day is the same and yet nothing is ever certain. 

May’s eyes stare back at him from the yellowed pages, expressive as he remembers them, wild and excited and deep. Like the big wide oceans dipped in gold as the sun sets behind the horizon. It’s a fool’s game he’s playing here, whatever sparked between them is long gone if it has ever been there to begin with.

He hopes that wherever she is now, Saint-Denis or elsewhere, that she’s happy. Happy and safe. He hopes that the man she was meant to meet with, treats her well. Maybe she even gets to teach at a school, share her knowledge with the kids of the city. He hopes she gets all she ever dreamed off and yet it sends a sting to his heart because life ain’t been too nice to either of them and his wishes seem as foolish as the longing hidden in his drawings. 

Letting out a huff of frustration, Arthur gets back to his feet, stuffs the journal back into his bag, and makes his way towards Mouse who lazily munches away on the lush green grass growing around the camp. 

He needs to get away from here, get out for a while. Just ride around and clear his head of all the haze and all the nonsense that’s settled there lately. There’s something about galloping around the great wide open on the back of his beloved horse, that makes his heart feel lighter, that makes it easier to breathe. 

There’s the two of them and the world at peace as deer and foxes cross his path. Pain and suffering and worry don’t exist here, at least for a moment. It’s both exhilarating and calming all at once.

By the time he’s ready to return to camp, a pronghorn buck strapped to the back of his horse, the sun sits low painting the sky in various shades of reds and pinks and oranges. Sometimes Arthur finds himself marveling at the beauty that nature can conjure and then he wonders if she can see it too. If the sky is golden in Saint-Denis or if the smog hides it under a blanket of gray. 

Just as he’s about to pass by Clemens Cover, a commotion sounds from the field. For a moment Arthur considers just moving on, whatever shady business the Davies brothers have gotten themselves entangled in, it ain’t none of his business. He doesn’t even like ‘em very much. The rational part of his brain pushes him to move on, to ignore whatever trouble is happening by the fence. But the rational part of his brain hardly ever wins a fight against that soft, sensitive spot in his heart. The one he surely must’ve gotten from his mother. 

So he stirs Mouse towards the noise, mentally kicking himself for being such a pushover. 

Clay Davies sits atop the rocky formation, his mustache just as mean looking as Arthur remembers. There’s a desperate glint in his eyes as he yells instructions at his twin brother. 

“ It’s just a damn horse, you fool. Get him under control. God damnit. “ 

Arthur’s eyes wander from Clay towards his twin brother, the silent one, and it’s then that his heart sinks. Clive, though he doesn’t talk, lets out sounds of desperation and frustration. The horse before him, bucks up on his hind legs, an irritated neigh sounding through the air. It’s not just any horse though. Its hair shines in the light of the setting sun like expensive golden silk imported straight from New York. You don’t come across a horse like this one very often. Beans is a one of a kind beauty and he sure as hell doesn’t belong here. Not with them two imbeciles trying to sell him off to just anyone. Why isn’t he with May by now? Surely she’s not the one that sold him to these two fools. 

“ Hey, “ his voice carries loudly across the field. “ That ain’t your horse you’re wrestling there. “ 

“ Sure it is, Pop. “ 

Something about this man is so insanely irritating to Arthur. The self-righteous smirk, the beady little eyes. His sense of superiority. It all comes together and makes Arthur’s blood boil with irritation and rage.

“ Nah. I know that horse and it ain’t yours. Belongs to a friend of mine and she loves him. Would never sell ‘im. Least of all to the two of you. “ 

Clay slips down from the rocks, boots sinking into the muddy ground as he approaches Arthur. He’s shorter and scrawnier and if it came to it, Arthur has no doubt he could take him in a fight. Though fighting sure ain’t what he needs right now. After all, he’s a deputy sheriff for the town of Rhodes right now, and punching a man in the face might not go over so well. Dutch surely wouldn’t be too delighted about it. 

“ What are you trying to imply there, huh? Huh, pop? “ 

“ Not trying to imply anything. Where’d you get him? “ 

“ Fella sold him to us. “ 

“ That so? “ 

“ Yup. Said his owner moved away and he’s too wild and too expensive to keep around. Man’s gotta feed his own horses. This one was nothing but a nuisance. “ 

May’s words echo through his head. “He’s my best friend. “ There’s no way she knows about any of this. If she did, she’d be here and try to get Beans back. Whatever it would take, she’d do it. 

“ How much ?”

“ ‘Scuse me? “ 

“ How much for the horse. “ 

Clay’s lips lift into a smirk so unsettling and nasty looking Arthur’s fist itches for him to use it. Slam it right into the man’s face and make the smirk disappear permanently. He doesn’t though.

“We’re hiding in plain sight, Arthur. It’s genius!” Sure it is, Dutch. Sure it is. 

“ Little golden over there? How about $400? “ 

“ 400? You taking me for a fool? “ Arthur replies and closes the space between the two men. He knows how to be threatening, how to be scary, and though he doesn’t want to use any actual violence, a little friendly intimidation doesn’t cause any harm now does it?

“ Look, “ he says, his voice so low and deep it hardly sounds like his own voice no more, “ I’ll be takin’ this horse with me either way. Now you can come out of this with some money and no scratches to you. Or you can try to play games with me and see how that ends. Hope you’re not too attached to the way your nose looks right this moment though. “ 

Clay regards him intensely like he’s trying to figure out if he’s being serious or if he’s bluffing. But Arthur can see, clear as day, the fear in the other man’s eyes. Whatever the chances are of Arthur actually bluffing, Clay knows it ain’t worth finding out.

“ How about $250? “ 

“ See, you can be reasonable after all, can you? “ 

As he rides into camp, a gorgeous Kentucky Saddler in tow, Arthur is being flooded with questions. None of which he’s particularly fond of answering. They don’t know about May and even if they did, it wouldn’t make a lot of sense to them. Hell, it hardly makes sense to him. Whatever it was that could’ve developed between them, it didn’t. And to explain the unexplainable to other people is a fruitless activity. 

So he makes up some story he’s sure most of them don’t believe but they do have the decency to leave him alone and not pester him about it. Not yet at least. He’s aware of the fact that it ain’t gonna be like this for long. Sooner or later the chatter will start up again and the questions will come. But for now, he’s left in peace and that’s all that matters right now. 

As night falls upon the camp and the lake lies peaceful and silent, Arthur slumps back down onto the damp shore, back resting against the fallen tree. And he begins to write. Though this time it’s a letter and not a journal entry. 

“ Dear Miss May Everly,

I hope you’re doing well out there in the big city. Them wildflowers sure miss you out here and while I try my best to keep them company, I fear I’m quite the poor excuse for a substitute. I don’t know what exactly happened but I found your friend Beans in the presence of some pretty shady horse traders. Don’t worry, I got him back. Don’t want him to get on the wrong path. I’ll keep him with me for the time being and promise to spoil him with all the pets and sugar cubes you would’ve given him. Please do let me know how I can get him to you. He misses you as I’m sure you miss him too. “ 

He pauses there, wonders if he should tell her that the heartlands only seem half as big without her in them. Only half as bright. Half as alive. He decides against it in the end. What good would it do? This isn#t her life no more and to remind her of what she’s lost ain’t doing either of them a favor.

“ I hope you’re happy. I hope you’re safe. Please direct your reply to a Tacitus Killgore at Rhodes Post Office. 

Your friend,  
Arthur Morgan. “ 

For a second he fears that calling himself her friend is a presumptuous thing to do. Fears that it is inappropriate. He leaves it anyway.

Waiting for a letter you’re quite certain won't arrive, is a game that is neither fun nor exciting. It’s a foolish thing to do. Absurd and unreasonable. And yet he finds himself passing by the post office more frequently than ever before. Every time he returns to camp, his heart holds a glimmer of hope that maybe a letter is waiting for him by his bedside. It never does. 

Days pass. Weeks. And then they move on. Not out of a desire to see more of the world, out of necessity. It’s them damn Pinkertons again, like flies hovering above a still body of water on a hot summer's day. There’s just no getting rid of them. And that feud between them two rich families that Dutch wanted to play along with, that only drove em’ into deeper shit. 

Shady Belle ain't the worst of places but it ain’t the best either. The swamps and the bayou are far from Arthur’s favorite places. Everything is muddy and sticky and wet. It feels like your clothes are perpetually damp. But it’s the best they can do right now. At least they’re all still together. Well — most of them. Losing Sean still weighs heavily on all of them, especially Arthur, and not necessarily because he liked the guy so much. He did, he really did, despite his big mouth that never seemed to close for more than a second. But the thing about his death that hits Arthur so hard, is the fact that it was preventable. They didn’t need to be there. There shouldn’t have been. This felt like a damn trap, to begin with, and yet no one wanted to listen to him. Not Bill, not god damn Micah — not Dutch. 

Sean didn’t have to die. 

At least young Jack is back with them, happy and smiley as he’s ever been. Though Arthur can see the damage that the whole situation has caused inside of John. He’s never going to admit it but the younger man is as close to a brother as Arthur ever had. He knows him far better than he’d like. Can see the darkness in his eyes, the rage, and the fear. This ain’t no life for a kid as soft and gentle as little Jack. Arthur wonders how long either of them can hold onto the cracks that seem to grow bigger and bigger each day. The cracks in the foundation of their group. The one group that always felt like the steady thing in either of their lives. 

It’s a day as hot and humid as any other, as Arthur gets to his room on the upper floor of the old mansion. There’s a crate by his bed, functioning as a bedside table. Usually, it holds some ammunition, some food, maybe some cigarettes. Today though, there’s more. 

A letter rests on top of the crate next to a box of cigarettes and a tub of pomade. For a moment, his heart does the weird thing where it slows down and speeds up all at once and then he takes the letter in his hand and all the hope, that has bubbled up, vanishes. It’s smooth white parchment paper and it smells of a familiar perfume. Mary.

“ Dear Arthur,  
I hope this letter finds you well … “ 

It doesn’t. It finds him in a state of irritation and restlessness. He hasn’t been truly well in a while. Mary says in the letter, that her life is a mess. The woman doesn’t even know what that means. If anyone’s life is messy it’s his.

She needs his help again, and like a dog loyal to the man that kicks him, Arthur gets on his horse and rides out to Saint-Denis. Though this time he doesn’t carry any false hope with him. Not when it comes to Mary at least. Whatever they had, it’s long gone, longer than it ever was. He loved her, there’s no doubt in his mind, maybe he still does. Only he loves her differently now. And maybe the thing he was holding onto for so long, wasn’t her or his love for her. Maybe it was this picture of a beautiful future they could’ve had. Maybe he loved the idea of them together and the man he felt like he could be when he was with her, more than he ever loved her. 

Either way, his heart still feels an infinite fondness for her, as so he goes to see her. But in the back of his mind, there’s a spark of hope. Not for them to reunite. There’s a glimmer of hope that maybe Saint-Denis ain’t all that big after all. Maybe he can swing by the postal station and inquire about the other woman in his life. The one he’s been sketching over and over again since he said goodbye to her at Valentine Station.  
It’s silly and he knows it. You can’t go around doing bad things and expect it not to come back to you one day. Luck is never on his side. He’s not sure why he’s counting on it right now.

Meeting Mary goes as well as one can expect. It’s another mess her family has created for themselves and she expects him to fix. And he does because that’s just the kind of person he is. He loves so fiercely that not helping her would feel like betraying himself. Even if it’s not romantic love no more, it’s still love. When he brings her to the trolley, she asks him to run away. Asks him to leave it all behind and be with her. Those words. He wanted to hear them for so long. There’s been countless nights where sleep didn’t come but those words kept flying around his mind like moths around a streetlamp. 

Now that she’s spoken them, they feel foreign. He doesn’t feel the way he thought he would. There’s no sense of relief. His heart doesn’t soar. He doesn’t even consider the idea, not even for a second. This is the end for them and they both know it. Only it doesn’t feel like an end. It’s not sad. It doesn’t break him. This feels like the natural course of things. And he’s okay with it. He’s at peace. 

Saint-Denis feels big, so awfully big. And not vast and grand like the valleys out west. Big and confusing like a maze. Like one big cage that you can’t get out of. He leads Mouse into a brisk trot. The quicker he’s out of here the better. What a moron he was to believe he’d just magically run into May. What are the chances of that? and anyway, she hasn’t responded to his letter so even if he did run into her, maybe she doesn’t wanna see him. She has a new life now. How ridiculous of him to believe there’s a place for him in it.

No, he doesn’t run into May. However, he doesn’t get too far until he does come across a familiar name. Charles Chatenay - the french view. Arthur lets out an amused scoff. The last he’s seen of the peculiar Frenchman was when he’d rescued him from being shot by the angry husband of one of his “muses” and he liked to call them. He’s a strange fellow though Arthur can’t help but regard him with some kind of fondness. Charles is very well aware of his peculiarities and he relishes in them. And there has to be some bravery in that, Arthur thinks. 

So he hitches Mouse by a post next to the fancy looking building that houses the gallery. There are ornate banisters and the walls are a baby blue. All this seems like a different world to Arthur. One he isn’t quite sure he’ll ever fit in. 

There a crowd gathered upstairs, all dressed in ruffled dresses and shiny suits. All looking like the reek of money and fortune or maybe, Arthur thinks, they’re just good at pretending. 

Charles stands in the middle of the room, shiny shoes on even shinier checkered floors. His feet tap a nervous staccato as he regards the crowd with a kind of excited curiosity. Arthur lets his gaze wander around the room, taking in the people then the art and — it’s quite something. 

There’s a bunch of paintings of various sizes though they all have something in common. All of them are paintings of beautiful women. All of them naked. Oh, the sly fox. There’s women of all shapes and sizes, and though he’s painted them in the nude, there’s nothing lewd or obscene about them. Arthur is the first to admit that he doesn’t understand nor care for art very much. But these are beautiful though risky. He can admit that much. 

There’s a painting in the furthest corner of the room, slightly smaller than the others, and adorned with a gold ornate frame. That painting sends his heart into a frenzy. 

A head of red curls so bright they rival a burning flame and eyes of bright blue like the clearest ocean. He’d recognize her anywhere. It feels wrong to stare at this painting, her naked body. Curves and curls and a smile to rival the sun. Though Arthur can't muster up the strength to avert his gaze.

“ Ah, I see you like my painting then? “ Charles exclaims as he steps up beside Arthur, eyes also fixed on the painting. “ She’s one of my favorites. Her hair was just — oh it was a formidable thing to paint. Like fire. “ he continues, voice tinged with a thick french accent.

“ How d’you know her? “ 

“ I saw her buying flowers from a vendor at the market. Saw the hair and knew I had to paint her. “ 

“ Yeah, but naked? “ 

He hates the way it makes him feel. There’s no reason for him to feel so, so — jealous. It’s none of his business. He ain’t got any claim on her. Whatever she decides to do is her decision and her decision only.  
And yet —

“ Oh of all the people in the world, you’re the last one I expected to run into. “ 

Her voice sounds from behind him, still as melodic and sweet as the first time he’s heard it. Arthur turns around and when their eyes meet, the unspoken words are suddenly back on the tip of his tongue.  
She looks the same as when they said goodbye in Valentine and yet she looks entirely different. Her hair is piled on the top of her head in a way he’s seen so many women do it in the big city. It’s not her though. She’s dressed in a gorgeous green dress of shiny silk. One that looks expensive. One that looks like nothing she’d wear.

“ Miss May. “ it’s all he can muster up. His voice, and all the words he’s ever known, have suddenly been swallowed by a tidal wave of confusing emotions.

“ Do you like it then? “ 

“ I uh — “ he’s sure he’s blushing. This is a painting of her, naked. How can she ask him something like this?

“ I’m just joking, pretty boy. It’s so lovely to see you. How are you, Arthur? “ 

Charles, seemingly uninterested, has wandered off by now and for a moment Arthur feels like May and him are the only two people in this room, maybe in the world even.

“ Alright, I guess. You look different. “ 

“ Good different? “ 

Arthur shrugs. “ Not bad, just different. “

“ It’s the fashion here, you know. Hey, do you — do you fancy a trip to the saloon? “ 

And once again he’d follow her to the end of the earth if she asked. 

“ Sure. Lead the way. “ 

___________________________

“ So you and Charles, then? “ 

“ Huh ? “ she asks, eyebrows raised in question, her glass of whiskey stopping halfway on the way to her mouth.

“ I mean — I saw the painting. “ 

“ Yes, and? “ 

“ You know. “ 

She’s smirking. He’s well aware of the fact that she enjoys seeing him squirm and beat around the bush. This talk of well intimate details, it ain’t something he’s ever been good at. 

“ I don’t think I know what you’re implying. “ 

“ He painted you naked. Is it so foolish of me to think there’s more there? I ain’t judging either just — ya know. “ 

“ Oh, Arthur. You’re right. he painted me. That was all there was. Charles is — well he’s quite something. “ 

Arthur snorts a laugh at that “ ain’t that right. “ 

“ But he’s also very sweet and respectful. And in a place like this, it’s a welcome breath of fresh air, someone like him. “

An overwhelming sense of sorrow swings along with her words and it makes his heart crack a little.

“ You aren’t happy here? “ 

It’s not quite a question but not a statement either. He knows she ain’t, can see it in her eyes and the way her smile doesn’t quite reach them. He wants to hear it from her though, to assume it would be presumptuous and wrong.

“ I ain’t unhappy. This just isn’t home. It never will be. “ 

Home. It’s still a weird and unfamiliar concept to him. To have your heart bound to a place and not a person.

“ How’s uh what’s-his-name ?” 

“ Lewis is delightfully boring. He treats me well, he buys me nice things, and gives me a comfortable life. “ 

“ But ? “ 

“ But he also has really ancient morals and ideas of what a woman should act like. I ain’t quite sure it’s a life I ever want to lead. I spend all day in this big house with nothing to do but look pretty and bore myself to death.“ 

If there was any way for him to get her out of it he would do that. Would take her away from here in the matter of a heartbeat. But what could he give her? A life on the run. Danger and death lurking behind every corner. If anything were to happen to her he would never be able to forgive himself. Especially now with them Pinkertons hot on their heels and Dutch behaving so strangely and out of character.

“ Why didn’t you answer my letter ?” 

The question has been heavy on his heart and heavy on his mind and though the answer might pain him greatly, he needs to know. Sometimes uncertainty and ignorance are worse than the hurt that knowing the truth can bring.

“ A letter? You sent me a letter? “ 

“ I did. Some time ago. “ 

“ I never received a letter. Never. Oh, Arthur, you have to believe me. You must think so badly of me now. I promise I —”  
Gently, he takes a hold of her hands that gesture wildly as the world fumble from her lips. “ It’s okay. I believe you. I trust you.” 

And he realizes then, that he does. Trust her that is. Arthur can count the people he trusts on one hand and the rational part of his brain knows that trusting a woman he’s only known for such a short time is a stupid thing to do. But as he said before, that part of his brain hardly ever wins. 

“ What did you write to me about? “ 

The softness of her voice washes over him like seafoam, gentle and comforting and unfamiliar.

“ Beans.”

“ Beans? The foo—” 

“ The horse! “

“ My beans?! What about him? “

“ Found him at some horse traders fence. Don’t think you wanted him there. “ 

May slams her glass down with the fury of a thousand summer storms. “ Oh that Richard. What a slimy traitor he is. He promised to care for Beans as if he was his own horse. I sent him money, for god's sake. Where’s my boy now? “

“ Bought him back. He’s with us right now, me and my people. Tried to get him back to you but you never responded so — “ 

He doesn’t even have the time to realize what's happening, she moves that quickly. Her small hands clasp his face in between them. They’re cold from holding onto the glass of whiskey yet just as soft as he remembers them to be. 

“ You bought my horse back, for me? “ 

The pure and unfiltered affection in her voice makes him feel both excited and a bit uncomfortable. Not because it’s bad or unwanted but because it’s been so long that he’s heard it in a woman’s voice. Maybe even longer than when he used to be sweet on Mary. With her, there was always a black cloud looming on the horizon. Their relationship had always been slightly tainted. He remembers a moment though when he felt that same affection. It wasn’t love but it was something. Maybe even something better. Something more important. 

The first time he held Isaac in his arms, a small little baby who knew nothing of the world but his mother’s love, he was speechless. He loved this kid with every fiber of his being. Probably stared at him for hours. When he finally managed to lift his gaze and lock eyes with Eliza, that’s when he saw the same affection. Something deeper than love bound them together then. Maybe whatever this is with May is more than romantic love. Maybe it can be.

“ Yeah. I did. “ 

“ Oh, you wonderful man. You lovely lovely, man. Arthur Morgan, I know you won’t believe me but I promise you it won’t change my mind: You’re a good man. The best I’ve known in a long time. “ 

“ Nah I — “ 

Arthur doesn’t get to finish his sentence. Her lips meet his in a kiss so delicate and gentle it’s but a whisper of a touch. Like a feather on his skin. Hardly there but still overtaking all his senses. She tastes like whiskey and warmth. Oh does he want to pull her closer, tug the hairpins out of her red curls and bury his fingers in them. He doesn’t get the chance to do either of that though as she pulls away just a heartbeat later.

“ I — I uh. I’m sorry about it. “ Her freckle covered cheeks are tinted a bright shade of pink that almost rivals the radiance of her hair.

“ You ain’t got nothing to be sorry for. Nothing. “ 

And for the first time in a long time, Arthur smiles a genuine smile. One that reaches his eyes. One that he feels all the way in his heart.

“ Will you take me to get my boy? “ 

“ Sure. The boy misses you. “ 

“ I miss him too, “ she replies and takes a breath “ and I missed you, Arthur. Despite my better judgment and despite the practical part of my brain telling me it’s silly. “ 

“ Oh, it’s plenty silly. But I missed you too. “ 

A few moments later he swings himself up onto Mouse, May is situated snugly behind him, before she wraps her arms tightly around his waist, she takes the pins from her hair letting her curls fall down her back like waves of liquid fire. The way they should be. The way Arthur likes it.

“ Now you hold on tight back there, alright? “

“ Don’t worry, “ May assures, “ I won’t let go anytime soon. “ 

And though he knows he should be a better man and not let himself fall into dreams of a future that can never and will never be. And though he knows that sometimes a kiss is just a damn kiss and nothing more. Though he knows all of this, he can’t help but feel delighted at the prospect of having her close. Of having her hold onto him. Even if it’s just for today.


	5. The indescribable feeling of falling in love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a storm brewing over Rhodes while Arthur and May discuss the indescribable feeling of falling in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys,
> 
> I once again wrote this on my iPad. I did run it through spellcheck so most mistakes should be fixed but I will go back in a few days and edit in case there's some left. 
> 
> Also I just wanna say a quick thank you for all the lovely feedback :)

A dark and gloomy sky accompanies them as Arthur and May ride along the wet marshland of the Bayou. Out of Saint-Denis and into the great wide open. It’s not their beloved west but it’s still a feeling of eternal lightness that washes over them as the factories get smaller and smaller in the distance. So small they soon turn into tiny little dots on the horizon and the smog is but a black shadow in the sky. 

Though the Bayou ranks pretty low on his list of favorite places, Arthur still prefers it over Saint-Denis. Then again, he prefers pretty much any place over Saint-Denis.

May’s arms still rest around his waist, snug and tight like she’s afraid to let go. Not for fear of falling but because she’s worried he might vanish if she loosens her grip for even a second. 

Mouse navigates her way around the dirt path leading out of the Bayou, past Calliga Hall and up towards Rhodes. To think that just a few weeks ago he had been a deputy there then a wanted criminal. It’s like none of it happened. Like the town has forgotten all of it. Just collectively lost all memory of them shooting their way through town, burning down fields and stealing horses. It all seems like a lifetime ago, to both him and the town.

“ Are you staying in Rhodes? “ May asks, a sense of confusion tumbling from her words.

“ I uh — “ he’s mulling over the words in his head. Tries to put them together in a way that makes sense to him and to her. In a way that doesn’t make her feel like he doesn’t trust her. He does. So much so that it's scary. But things with the group are complicated as they are, bringing a girl to the camp that neither of the others know, that’s not gonna go over well with either of them. Especially not with Dutch.

“ You don't want me to know where you’re staying! “

It’s not accusatory. Not even a little. It's the simple stating of a fact, no judgment placed upon him. And yet that doesn’t ease his conscience. He wants her, he needs her, to know that this ain’t about him. That it’s not him who doesn’t want her to know. Who doesn't want her to see.

“ Ain’t me that’s the problem. Ain’t you either. “ 

“ Who is ? “ 

“ Can we talk about it later? I’ll try to explain if ya really wanna know. “ 

“ I’ll listen to whatever you’re willing to share. “ 

The way she says it sends a subtle shiver down his spine. She talks to him with such a softness and such excitement, as if whatever he has to say is the most interesting thing she’s ever heard. He never has to fight for her attention, never has to try to talk himself up as something he ain’t. Oh what a cruel world where it allows you to meet people that make you feel like this and yet it reminds you every day that the feeling, the company, it all has an expiration day.

At the exact moment they pass the sign welcoming them to Rhodes, the sky that’s been so heavy all the way here, opens up. Thick drops like honey, like a widow's tears, rain down upon them. He can feel them soaking through his shirt, cling to his skin. May’s red hair sticks to her face like liquid fire. Though it’s quite chilly, it also sends a sense of purity over him. Maybe it’s a silly thought but it feels like the rain washes away the sticky residue of the Saint-Denis smoke.

As they approach the Rhodes Parlour house, the voices from inside spill out onto the street. There’s a bustling of people at all times of the day. Drifters and locals alike find their way here to get away from the sorrows of life, or wallow in them. We each have our own ways of dealing with the bad and celebrating the good. 

“ Let’s get you inside and out of the rain. I’ll buy you something to eat, rent you a room too. I’ll bring the boy around tomorrow morning then ride with you back to Saint-Denis, make sure you’re safe.“

“ Arthur!, “ May exclaims, her arms tightening around his waist. “You’re soaked and the nights are getting awfully chilly. I ain’t letting you ride around in this weather. “ 

“ Ah it’s alright.” 

“ No it ain’t. Let’s wait out the rain at least. Come inside will you, join me for dinner.” 

There’s really no time to consider any of this. The rain is soaking them with every passing second, making their clothes stick tightly to their skin. She ain’t all wrong either. This weather is awful and the wind blowing against his damp skin sends cold shivers through him.

“ Alright. But I’m payin’ “ 

“ Okay mister, suit yourself. “ 

________________________

The rain doesn’t stop. In fact, it gets worse. The storm sweeps over Lemoyne with an unwavering rage. There’s thunder so loud it even drowns out the chatter echoing through the Rhodes parlour house and every few minutes a new flash of lightning lights up the sky like a flurry of fireworks.

Arthur’s eyes study the raindrops racing each other down the windowpane while May’s by the bar ordering another drink. Their food has long been devoured and night has well and surely fallen over the earth. He shouldn’t be here and neither should he. It’s a thought he can very easily push to the back of his mind when she’s sitting across from him looking at him with those big beautiful eyes. But now that he’s left alone with his thoughts and the patter of the rain, those nagging voices get harder to ignore.

He should’ve never taken her here, should’ve just brought the horse to her. There’s a man in Saint-Denis waiting for her. She has a life there now, one that leaves no room for him. Hell, what does he even think this is? What it means? It’s all just nice thoughts and dreams of something that won’t ever be. It’s ignorant bliss, something a man like him has no time getting lost in.

And yet he does anyway.

The world, everything, seems to light when she’s around. For just those few fleeting moments he gets to spend with her, Arthur feels like a different man. One that doesn’t crumble under the weight of the world that seems to be resting on his shoulders. His problems, his fears, all of it vanishes. 

But then he’s left alone again with just his thoughts and that’s when the weight comes back, pushes him down, squeezes his ribcage, drowns him off all the happy thoughts. Because whatever time they get together, it’s got a countdown ticking in the distance and no matter how often they run into each other, one of those encounters will undeniably be the last one. And that’s a thought he can’t bear to think about.

“ Let’s go, I got us a room. “ May approaches, taking her coat from the chair by the fireplace. It’s still damp but at least it ain’t dripping from the rain more.

“ Us? “ Arthur questions, his eyebrows raised in confusion.

“Yes us, you silly man. Look outside, Arthur. It’s a goddamn storm out there.”

Sipping the last of his beer, Arthur shakes his head in disagreement. “That ain’t happening. That’s not appropriate, Miss May.”

“Oh we’re back to Miss, are we?”

“ It ain’t that I don’t want to. It just ain’t right.”

“ Nothing is going to happen, I just can’t risk you going out there and getting hit by lightning or a fallen tree or something. “

“May…”

“ You’re the only one who can get me my horse back so … can’t let anything happen to you.”

There’s the smirk again. The mischievous glint in her eyes. The smile hidden in the corner of her lips. For only him to see.

“ Oh so it’s for selfish reasons only. And here I was, fool that I am, thinking you were worried about me.”

“ Me? Worry about you? Care about you? What a silly little thought.”

God, her smile is like a ray of sunshine crashing through the dark of the night and the fury of the storm to warm his skin and his heart at the same time.

“ Ain’t that right.”

“Come on, Arthur.”

And when she gives him that look, quite honestly he would follow her anywhere no matter if it’s the right thing to do.

————————

“This really ain’t right.” Arthur’s voice comes out muffled as he slumps down further on his seat, basically hiding in his neckerchief.

“Oh you big loaf, you’re being so dramatic. Nothing is happening.”

“You’re in your undergarments.”

“Because my clothes were still soaking. Also, I’m under the blanket and you’re all the way over there on the couch. It’s fine.”

Really there’s nothing for him to see, the blanket covers pretty much all of her except for her face, and to be honest, he’s seen the girls walk across the campgrounds in far less. And yet it’s different. Maybe because she has a man at home or maybe because there are feelings there. Feelings he tries to deny. Feelings he doesn’t wanna acknowledge. Doesn’t make them any less true though.

“Just ain’t comfortable with this.”

She’s silent for a moment and then when she speaks up, her voice is tinted with a kind of defeat and sadness he never wants to hear from her again.

“ I’m sorry Arthur. I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable. You don’t gotta stay if you don’t want to, just … well I’d be kinda worried about you riding through this storm. And I uh - if it makes you uncomfortable up here we can go back down and wait by the bar.”

Arthur combs his fingers through his hair in frustration. It’s like he’s constantly caught between a rock and a hard place when he’s with her. Stuck in a war between his heart and his head.

“I told you it ain’t me and it ain’t you either.”

“Then what is it?”

“There ain’t no place for me in your life. You got a man at home waiting for you. He’s probably worried sick and … and if he were to know that you’re spending your time alone in a hotel room with some no-good outlaw. I don’t think he’d be too happy about it. That’s a good life you got there, I don’t want you to ruin it for me. God knows I ain’t worth it.”

“Oh Arthur.”

He’s heard those words so many times spoken by another sweet voice. When Mary said them, they were usually followed by some reason or another why she had to leave or why she couldn’t stay with him or some other disappointing statement. 

Not with May though.

“First of all, this is 1899 and your thoughts seem quite ancient. I am a woman who prides herself on owning her own thoughts and her own acts. I chose who I spent my time with and who’s worth it. You’re worth a whole lot more than most of the men I’ve met in my life. And Lewis well. My god, Lewis is nice and he treats me well but he sure ain’t loosing no sleep over me being gone. You see, he is in this arrangement for love as much as I am. Not at all. Lewis had a wife, Grace. She was carrying their baby so he bought them a beautiful house at the edge of the city, right across from the park and just down the street from the theater. They got it all ready for the baby and their new life. And then she died and the baby too. Now I live in a house with a man who is still grieving and doors to rooms that will never be used and stay locked forever. My life now in the city, it is comfortable and easy but it ain’t happy. I live with ghosts more than people.”

Every word tumbling from her lips is dripping with sadness and sorrow and heartbreak. If there was any way for him to rescue her from this, he’d do it in a heartbeat. And though Arthur prides himself for always finding a way to goon and to solve problems, this one seems impossible. To be so out of control, it tears him apart.

“I - I am sorry to hear that.”

“I know you are. So please allow me to enjoy these few moments of freedom. “

“You’re one hell of a woman, May. Ya deserve better than a life where you gotta choose between comfort or happiness.”

“It’s happiness or survival, Arthur. I am a woman without means. It’s this or - or selling the one thing I have left. My body. “

“That ain’t happening.”

The thought of her being a working lady, it sends red hot anger through his veins like molten fire. Like hot smoke.

“I’m glad we agree on that one. Let’s - let’s forget about all of that for now, can we? Enough about me. Let’s talk about you. I know hardly anything about you.”

“And still you chose to spend your time with me. Ain’t that something.”

She grants him another of her signature smiles. Life has been unkind to both of them and yet they turned out so differently. It made Arthur hard and grouchy and bitter. But May, it only made her kinder, softer and more appreciative of the good things in life no matter how small or insignificant they may seem.

“What I do know is things I figured out through my own experiences. You’ve been nothing but kind to me Arthur but if it makes you feel better I can pretend like I ain’t aware of how good and kind your heart really is. So tell me more about the parts of you I don’t know.”

“What do you want to know?”

“I don’t know. Tell me about your past. Where are you from? Where’s home. “

“North,” he says and looks at her while considering his next words. Home wasn’t a place for him, not now and not ever. Though sometimes he really wishes it was, wishes it could be. “ I was born further up north. Ain’t really had a place to really call home though. My momma died when I was little and my pa, well he wasn’t a good man. He passed away when I was a teenager. Spent a while stumbling through life and then …”

“And then?”

“Then I met my family. “

————————————————

It’s nice to talk about his life and that’s a statement he never thought he’d ever make. May listens to him like every word matters to her and he has no doubt it does. 

So many things he thought he had forgotten about come back to him as he recalls his past to her. Many of the good times that seem so long ago. That get buried underneath the sorrow and the chaos that the gang is currently living through. All those good times come back to him now and it makes his heart feel a little less heavy.

Once he starts talking, time seems to fly by and suddenly he has forgotten all about the rain or the fact that he wanted to leave as soon as the storm has passed.

Now it’s only the two of them and stories of a past he was too afraid to remember.

“So have you ever been married?” May asks, her blue eyes shining with curiosity.

“Nah. I uh - I was engaged once. We were real young, just kids really. Had no business making plans like that, promises like that. We were foolish but we were -“

“In love.”

“I guess. “

“You guess?”

“I mean I know she loved me and I loved her but sometimes I wonder if we really knew what that meant. I think she loved me but only because she kept holding out hope that I was gonna change. She thought my life was a phase, something I was eventually gonna grow out of. But it ain’t.”

Silence falls upon them like a thick blanket, veiling them in both comfort and unease. It’s a confusing mix of emotions. One that Arthur isn’t entirely familiar with. 

“Wanna know something sad?”

He lifts his head and looks deep into her beautiful blue eyes. “Sure.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in love.”

“That ain’t sad, you’ve got time. Maybe it’s best not to fall in love so early. Kids don’t know nothing about love. Look at how it turned out for me.”

May combs her fingers through her still damp curls. “I ain’t got time though. Lewis is gonna want to go further sometime soon. Get married you know, maybe have babies. And truthfully that should be the next step, right? But that also means that I have to give up on falling in love.”

“That what you want?” Arthur asks, “marriage and kids?”

He can’t help but imagine her as a wife and mother. She’d be the most beautiful bride and his heart does a little jump as he imagines her chasing a bunch of red-haired children around the house. 

“I do. I really do. I just wonder if it’s a waste of a perfectly good dream if I live it with someone I don’t love.”

“I -“ Arthur starts uncertain on how to vocalize his thoughts. “ I ain’t a very smart man and I ain’t ever really had dreams. Either way, I don’t think any dream is ever wasted if it ends up making you happy.”

“Is that something you would want?” May asks, a gentle smile playing on her lips.

“Me?”

“Yeah you, sad boy. A wife and kids?”

His mind wanders to Isaac and Eliza even to Mary for a moment. For a boy who’s never been loved properly, a little affection, a familiar bond, a loving relationship, those were precious precious things. And yet they were all taken from him. Because of the choices he made. Because of what he did. Because of who he is.

It’s a nice sentiment, a beautiful picture,p. But that is all that can ever be.

“That ain’t possible with my life. I tried. I uh - I had a son once. His mother was a little younger than me, barely an adult herself. He was a good kid. Smart and curious and affectionate. Being a father, a family man, that didn’t work with my life though so I came and went as I could afford it. And it worked, for a while. Until one day I came back and found two graves in front of the house. Someone robbed and shot them. All for 10 fucking dollars. “

“Oh Arthur.”

“It’s all my goddamn fault, really. You can’t do bad things, live a bad life and then expect good things to last. It don’t work like that.”

“Arthur. That’s not how life works. And that wasn’t your fault either. Those horrible horrible people, they’re at fault. Not you. Is this the guilt you out on yourself every day? No wonder you’re sad. There’s no heart strong enough to endure all of that.”

“Ah you don’t know what I do. Who I am.”

In the matter of a second, May is off the bed, blanket wrapped around her frame, as she moves closer and plops down next to Arthur on the sofa.

“You silly man. I ain’t stupid. I know who you are, I know what you do. No offense but you ain’t being particularly smooth or subtle about it. I read the newspaper too, you know. I put two and two together, darling. “

“And you still think I’m a good man?”

“I think we all have our different paths in life and though I might not understand yours and you might not understand mine, doesn’t mean either is wrong or right. What I do know for certain is that you’ve been nothing but wonderful to me and - and the time I spent with you is the only time I feel happy. You’re a good man in my books, Arthur Morgan. Whether you like it or not.”

She’s so close. Her hair smells like lavender and summer rain and heat radiates from her body. 

“What does being in love feel like?” She asks.

“Like you, “ he thinks 

“Like warmth and summer rain and whiskey”, he says and for some reason it makes perfect sense to the both of them.

“Enough of them deep conversations I think. Tell me something fun,” she says and smiles.

“Like what?”

“Oh I don’t know. Maybe tell me about your mouse. When did you get her? Why is her name Mouse?”

“Ya don’t wanna know. It’s a damn silly story.” Arthur replies and shakes his head, he’s quite sure his cheeks are tinted red at the thought of telling her about his process of coming up with the horse's name.

“You know, there’s quite a few silly things about you, Arthur Morgan. And yet, despite my better judgment, I find them awfully endearing. “

Arthur can basically feel his heart melting at those words. Oh what a soft sob he really is.

_________________

Sun falls across the luscious lawns of Scarlett meadows as Arthur rides up towards the Rhodes entrance sign. Beans hair shines in the morning sun like golden silk, like honey.

Dewdrops are scattered across the grass like tiny stars. Arthur can’t imagine living in a big city where sights like this one are close to nonexistent. Big fields, wide meadows, open land asking to be explored. He never fully appreciated the morning after a big storm until now. Now that he is haunted by the sorrow in May’s eyes. If he could give her this, the freedom and the liberty and the magic, he would.

This morning, when he left her room to go get the horse, she looked almost unreal. Her hair was all over the place and the pillow had left a mark on her skin but in all her gorgeous imperfection she looked like something straight from a book. Like a princess or a fairy. Like a pirate queen. Like all the fantastical people Hosea and Mary and even young Jack liked to read about. 

His feet felt heavy as he dragged himself out of the room. Maybe for a fear of this moment coming to an end and maybe because he wanted to bask in her presence just a little longer.

“Oh my boy! My darling boy!”

May’s voice carries like sweet melodies from the porch of the saloon as Arthur and the horses approach the hitching pole. As she runs up to them, her curls sway in the wind like a crackling bonfire. Fierce and radiant and warm.

She throws her arms around the horse's neck, burning her face in his mane. There’s something quite unique about horses, Arthur thinks. They exude an unprecedented sense of empathy that no other animal can match. 

“Guess he missed you.”

“Oh I missed him too. Arthur I -“

That kiss, the one that was so fleeting he wonders whether it actually happened or was just a figment of his imagination, he feels it burning in his lips again. The way she looks at him then brings it back to his mind like it happened but a second ago. 

She shouldn’t be looking at him this way. And yet he can’t help but like it when she does it.

“Don’t go on thanking me now. Just doing what’s right. “

“I won’t ever be able to put into words how much this means to me anyway.”

“May, if I could — if I had any way of getting you outta there. “

“I know.”

Good. She knows, that needs to be enough for him.

“You up for a little race then, sad boy?”

“With you? Sure. Always.”

By god, he’ll take any chance to see her ride across the fields with that big smile on her face and her hair swishing around like flames.

—————

There’s a two-story house on Rue de Zacharie. It’s painted a pale yellow color and there’s a path leading into a spacious garden. It’s across from the park and just a little way up the street you can make out the lights and sounds coming from the Vaudeville theatre. 

It’s a beautiful house in a pretty neighborhood, perfect for a family of well-off people. But not for May. Though there’s a lot of greenery around the house, a garden filled with flowers and bushes, this isn’t her.

“It’s a nice house.” Arthur exclaims as they approach the building from the back, leading Beans into the garden. 

“Sure. It just ain’t a home. Not to me at least. I live with ghosts that I will never be able to drive out. And maybe I don’t want to. Lewis, though it sure can’t be good for him, finds comfort in his grief and who am I to take that from him.”

His bag feels awfully heavy right then and he knows exactly why. It’s still in there, from that first moment they met. He couldn’t give it to Straus. Couldn’t sell it either. It’s not his to sell and not his to keep either.

“May, I uh — I kept this. Think you should have it.”

Her eyes wander from his towards the hand he’s holding out to her and the ring gripped tightly between his fingers, then back to his eyes.

“You kept it.”

“I couldn’t sell it. Wasn’t my place to do that. I know it means a lot to you. Now that there’s a man in your life, you should have it back.”

May glances at the ring for a moment, contemplating, thinking. And then she looks up at Arthur with sad eyes and a defeated smile. And she shakes her head.

“Told you to give it to people in love. That ain’t me and Lewis.”

“It’s your ring.”

“Hold onto it for me then. Maybe one day, maybe in another life I’ll find a man worth putting the ring on my finger.”

Silence settles upon them like winters first frost. Cold and unforgiving. This is it, the end they both knew was coming. The end to something that never was allowed to really start.

“Don’t look at me like that, please. We’ll meet again, sad boy. I know we will.”

“I ain’t so sure about that.”

Living a life like his, tomorrow was never guaranteed. Having a future was uncertain.

“I know we will. I told you before and look at us. Here we are. Have faith, Arthur. “

And as she places the softest of all kisses on his cheek, he feels a spark of faith, a spark of hope light up inside of him. 

For the first time in a long time, faith doesn’t sound like a thread. The word isn’t followed by fear or doubt.

There’s only hope and warmth 

… and love.


End file.
